The Iron Duke, Admiral Fussington and a hundred armed soldiers were standing on the other side of the Tower of London’s main gate.
THUD came a sound from inside the famous tower.
“What was that?” asked Admiral Fussington.
“I believe that was the sound of a tower guard dropping to the ground,” said the Iron Duke.
“Shouldn’t we go in, then? This must be it,” said the admiral.
“All in good time,” replied the duke.
“But if the Steampunk Pirates are already inside, then—”
“Then it means they have a plan,” interrupted the duke.
“How can you be sure?”
“Because anyone who thinks he can rob the Tower of London without a plan is a fool. We know they are not fools because they have fooled us before. A fool can only be fooled by another fool. So unless you’re calling me a fool they have a plan.”
“Er… Yes, sir.” Admiral Fussington didn’t have the faintest idea what the duke had just said.
THUD.
“Do you know how many guards are in there?” asked the Iron Duke.
“I believe there are twenty-one on duty tonight,” the admiral replied.
“Then we are nineteen thuds short of going in.”
“But what if the guards are being harmed?”
“If pistols were being used we would have heard shots. If they were being run through we would have heard swordplay. No. There is something else going on here.” THUD. “These men are dropping silently to the ground. No agonized screams. No pleas for mercy. But how?”
“Perhaps the pirates are sneaking up behind them and knocking them out.”
THUD. THUD.
“Perhaps.” The duke nodded.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
“But shouldn’t we at least take a look?”
“Oh, very well.” The duke walked over to a nervous-looking soldier and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You. Go and see what’s going on.”
THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD.
“But it’s only my first day,” replied the soldier.
The duke turned a deep shade of purple. “Which explains why you think it is acceptable to answer back!”
“Maybe you want to pick one of the more experienced men,” pleaded the soldier.
The Iron Duke pushed his face up so close to the soldier’s that the tips of their noses were touching. “And maybe I want to pick someone new and expendable!”
“What does expendable mean?” asked the soldier, his voice wavering.
“It means that it doesn’t matter whether you come back or not. Now, stop arguing, get your bony bottom over the drawbridge and look inside or you’ll spend the rest of your career hanging from your bootlaces in a cell with no windows.”
“Yes, sir.” The petrified soldier saluted then raised his gun and walked towards the tower.
THUD.
“I don’t know what the world’s coming to,” the duke said to Admiral Fussington.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
“That’s twenty-one,” said Admiral Fussington. “All the guards are out.”
The young soldier reached the Tower entrance. He glanced back at the others then opened a door in the gate. There was the sound of hissing and the soldier dropped to the ground with another THUD.
“Interesting,” said the duke. “Did you hear that hissing noise? The pirates must be using some kind of gas to knock out the soldiers. Admiral Fussington, have one of your men run and buy smelling salts.3 We’ll dip handkerchiefs in the stuff to protect ourselves against the gas and then we’ll go in and capture those Steampunk Pirates once and for all.”
“Twitter? Are you up there?” whispered Pendle. “Come back down.”
The fog was so thick that Pendle couldn’t see her hand in front of her face, let alone spot the sulking parrot up on the rigging. She was getting nervous.
“Come on, Twitter,” she pleaded. “The captain left us both behind. That’s just the way it is sometimes.”
Pendle heard the unmistakable SPLASH of an approaching boat. “Who’s there?” she called out, fumbling for her dagger.
No one replied but, out of the shadows, metal arms reached up and grabbed her. They knocked Pendle’s dagger from her hands and wrapped themselves around her, preventing her from moving. “Twitter!” she yelled. “Help!”
“Pendle!” Twitter swooped down but a fist knocked him out of the sky.
“Bring the bird, too,” said a voice.
“WE WILL OBEY,” came the flat robotic reply.
No matter how much she kicked and screamed, Pendle was unable to escape her kidnapper’s grip as she was dragged off the ship and on to a neighbouring boat. She heard the rush of water and the CLUNK-HISS of a steam engine as it began to move.
“If you’re thinking you’ll be saved by your steampunk friends, then I’m afraid you’re wrong,” said a voice.
A man’s face appeared in front of Pendle’s, eerily lit by a hand-held lantern. She recognized the white hair, wispy sideburns and superior look immediately.
“Mr Swift,” said Pendle.
“Indeed. And you are the girl from the king’s party.” Mr Swift snatched the cap from her head. With the arms of the Electrical Soldier still around her, she was helpless to stop her hair falling down on to her shoulders.
“You asked about my engineering work,” continued Mr Swift. “I didn’t have time for you then, but I do now…”
“Captain Clockheart will make you suffer for this,” stated Pendle.
“No, he won’t. My automated paddle steamer is the fastest thing on the Thames. Besides, Mr Clockheart and his rusty companions have just walked into a trap. Forget about them – let’s talk about you. I would like to discuss how you can help me.”
“You’re kidnapping me! Why would I help you?”
“Because if you don’t, I will contact your father.”
“My father…”
“Admiral Fussington. Don’t try to deny it. I know who you are, which is why, once we get back to my workshop, you will tell me what you did to my steampunk servants to make them disobey their orders. You will help me prevent the same from happening to Tesla and Faraday, my new improved versions.”
“They’re not improved. There’s nothing wrong with the Steampunk Pirates.”
“Haven’t you been listening? By daybreak the Steampunk Pirates will be no more.”
3 Smelling salts were potent chemicals used to revive people who had fainted. Not to be confused with the stuff you put on chips.